


haven't seen barbados

by CadetDru



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Blasphemy, Canon Disabled Character, Crisis of Faith, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disappointment, Drowning, Dubious Morality, Gods, M/M, Moral Bankruptcy, No beta there's a bucket with our name on it, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sacrifice, Sea Monsters, Shapeshifting, Tentacle Rape, the sky is a bucket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29375640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadetDru/pseuds/CadetDru
Summary: Zolf had to help Sasha. She was worth dying for. She was worth killing for, but that didn't mean as much. Killing was easy enough.  Zolf's life had some weight to it, some worth to it, if only because he could keep trying to help someone like Sasha.Poseidon was hardly worth killing for. These were not thoughts worthy of a cleric. Nothing that his god did could be immoral; the entire point was for Zolf to follow his god's edicts.  Zolf just couldn't keep that in mind in the face of Sasha being in peril.Poseidon had to be satisfied with that until Zolf had something else to give. Zolf knew that he couldn't dictate what Poseidon would do with Zolf's lack of faith.
Relationships: Poseidon & Zolf Smith, Poseidon/Zolf Smith
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	haven't seen barbados

**Author's Note:**

> Title from lyrics of "Me and A Gun" by Tori Amos, which inspired a lot of the non-tentacle aspects.

"Take me, not her," Zolf screamed at the sky. He threw away everything tying him to his god to the waves: his weapon, his armor, and his own body.His body had been somewhat of an afterthought, changing its configuration based on external forces.Losing a leg hadn't changed who he was, losing his life wouldn't either.

It was exactly the wrong kind of sacrifice. Poseidon's cleric wasn't supposed to throw his own life away for a non-believer. Sasha belonged to no god, no belief but in herself.She was just barely a worthy sacrifice. If Zolf had said it the other way around, it might have been alright.

Zolf had to help Sasha. She was worth dying for. She was worth killing for, but that didn't mean as much. Killing was easy enough.Zolf's life had some weight to it, some worth to it, if only because he could keep trying to help someone like Sasha. 

Poseidon was hardly worth killing for. These were not thoughts worthy of a cleric. Nothing that his god did could be immoral; the entire point was for Zolf to follow his god's edicts.Zolf just couldn't keep that in mind in the face of Sasha being in peril. 

Poseidon had to be satisfied with that until Zolf had something else to give. Zolf knew that he couldn't dictate what Poseidon would do with Zolf's lack of faith.

Zolf and Sasha made it out of the water, eventually onto what passed for dry land. When they collapsed, sodden and soaked, Zolf was sure that he would fall into a dreamless stupor. He didn't want any more nightmares, they'd already made it through a waking one. 

He dreamed, because Poseidon wanted to visit him in a dream.Zolf's mind, body, and soul belonged to Poseidon alone.The dream started simply enough. Zolf was on a driftwood raft, alone in the middle of choppy water. Sasha and Hamid were gone, the latest that Zolf had managed to fail. There was no sign of life anywhere.

The storm rolled in, just as bad as the storms in his dreams always seemed to be. Zolf's raft washed away, pulled out from underneath him.The crash of the water as he was pulled under was almost familiar. First he was flipped in the water, eyes pointed to the sky. The clouds swirled. He couldn't shut his eyes, the water holding them open. His eyes stung as he stared up. He was struggling to breathe, struggling towards the air above, towards the dangerous clouds. 

Poseidon was there, holding him beneath the water.There was a density to it that differed, a sense of the water itself being disappointed in him.Zolf didn't know what Poseidon wanted of him, didn't know how to give him something that Zolf just didn't have.That was familiar too.Poseidon was visiting him to deliver some cryptic message.Zolf didn't like it, but he'd endure it.He'd already had worse. 

What happened next was much less familiar. There were two kinds of water, the normal kind thst he could psssivdly die in snd a harder@;$ condensed kind that was taking on form. Thick tentacles snaked around his chest and thighs, even the ankle of his good leg.The clouds parted as his legs were splayed. One heavy hand held his wrists in place at the small of his back and a heavy hand applied pressure to his hip. He was being held down and still. His mouth was breached first, a swell of briny hardness pushing down his throat.He tried to focus on that sensation, on holding his breath and not choking.

The appendages penetrating him from either end were more like tentacles than anything human, but that seemed to vary from one thrust to the next. It was too big, too much, too strange. The cock or tentacle or fist in his arse was spreading him wide. Zolf struggled against the various limbs, checking what he was supposed to do.He didn't expect to break free.

Zolf didn't think Poseidon was literally saying "well, fuck you too," because it seemed too simple a message.Maybe this was what he had agreed to when he asked for Poseidon to take him instead.

He didn't want to think about Sasha. He didn't want anything but to wake up. He could wait it out. A dream couldn't go on forever. Zolf couldn't lose consciousness in his dream.He didn't seem to be dying, either.He just was drowning, was passively receiving Poseidon's decreasingly violent thrusts.

The pleasure Poseidon was taking was of Zolf's powerlessness more than his physical pain, but it was both and neither. Zolf was supposed to be remembering his place. Zolf was supposed to be doing something. He was fairly certain Poseidon wanted him to submit, but whatever satisfaction Poseidon was seeking he would have to take himself.

Poseidon was simulating just enough of a physical body for Zolf to feel increased weight and pressure on his back. This was more comprehensible. Poseidon could've assailed him as a strapping young dwarf, someone forceful and strong who could violate him in a more normal fashion. It was a dream, Sasha herself could have been easily simulated. Instead it was a force who could probably have been described as eldritch or some other obscure and creepy word.

He would've done the same with any kind of attacker. If someone wanted a victim or hostage, he would've told them to take him, not her. She was worth it. That was how Poseidon should've attacked if an attack was what he meant 

Zolf tried to block thoughts of a less confusingly monstrous form. It didn't work, Poseidon seemed to pick up on this new suggestion of a different kind of horror. It all seemed to focus, to shrink down to a human's size, a man's briny-slick cock forcing him forward. It could have been anyone, not some nightmare vision of a god. A hand was wrapped around his throat, holding his jaw in place. His mouth was open enough to take two fingers of another hand. The combination kept him from drawing a breath even when the thrusts inside him brought him to the surface of the water. 

He didn't realize his cock was hard until he felt the rush of air against it. His body didn't belong to him in this place, its responses were not his to account for. If Poseidon was waiting for Zolf to get off, he could keep waiting or do whatever he needed to complete this ritual. As if in answer to this unspoken challenge, two thin tentacles shot out, one plunging inside his cock as the other spiraled around it. The extra stimulation seemed something of an afterthought. Blessedly, if that was the right word, Poseidon didn't seem to expect Zolf to be enjoying it. This was a pure punishment.

The normal form was gone again, all hands and fingers and throbbing cock replaced with ropey tentacles made of pure seawater. A blue sky was above him and he seemed to be pushed closer towards it. There seemed to be no part of him not covered. He was above the surface of the water now, but the tentacles wrapped him tighter, coiled around him, squeezing him harshly as the pulsing increased.

Zolf knew, being no true innocent, that there were those who might welcome a violent and vicious thrusting form. The tentacles themselves, while utterly bewildering, seemed like something that some sailor must have dreamt of. Poseidon was focused on pain over pleasure, on death over life. 

Zolf did something foolish and instinctive, the exact action he'd been trying to avoid. As the tentacles shifted his position again, he prayed to his deity for it to end. It was a prayer of desperation verging into despair. It couldn't go on. 

There was a release of a warm and sticky brine down his throat and up his arse as well as everywhere on his skin where a tentacle or fingertip touched.Poseidon was pleased, finally.Zolf's unthinking prayer had been his salvation. Or the god was finally done playing at a complicated encounter.

He woke up coughing, trying not to determine if he had a bittersweet taste in his mouth. He was covered in a cold sweat, and he tried not to feel his wrists and thighs or potentially traitorous cock for any residue. His god was appeased or at least pleased with what was presumably Zolf's humbling experience.   


"Alright, Zolf?" Sasha said. She was awake. His coughing fit had probably woke her up. 

He couldn't answer. He wasn't afraid that his voice would be wrecked and ragged, that salty tears would spill down his wet face. He couldn't say anything at all to her, not even the simple apology for waking her up. He just shook his head and laid back down. He wondered how much longer he could stay a cleric, if this might see meant he was still worthy.


End file.
